Random Made Up Break Up Scene

“Your room is a mess.” He stood in silhouette in the doorway, arms down at his sides. The light was coming in from behind him, as the blinds in the bedroom had been drawn for days.

“So?” She lay in the center of the king size bed. There was a collection of plates and mugs and ice cream sandwich wrappers on the two nightstands. The bed itself was clear of mostly everything except cat hair and her laptop. The floor around the perimeter of the bed was covered in clothes and shoes.

“Get up.” He hadn’t stepped into the room yet.

“Why?” She pulled the covers over her bare shoulders.

“Because I said so.”

“You don’t get to say so anymore.” Her words were laced with poison.

“Anna,” his voice softened.

“Don’t,” she cut him off. “Just don’t. There’s nothing you can say that is going to fix this. Nothing that will make me feel better. You have released yourself of having any responsibility over me, so get your shit and get out.”

“I still care about you. I still worry about you.”

“Get your shit. Get out,” she repeated in staccato.

He stepped in through the doorway and walked over to the large shopping bag she’d filled with his odds and ends left behind. At the very top was the collar he had given her.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I’m calling your mother.”

In a flash she was out of the bed and struggling against him to reach the phone. “Don’t you dare. Don’t bring my mother in to clean up the mess you made.”

She was naked. Her breasts pressed against his arm as she reached for it. The struggle continued for a few seconds until he was able to pin her arms behind her back with his own arms wrapped around her.

“Calm down, Anna.”

“Let me go.” She didn’t mean it.

“I have to,” he kept her restrained as he said it.

“I still don’t understand why.” She tried unsuccessfully to hold back her tears.

He looked down into the bag with the collar on top. He looked back at her. Teary-eyed, naked, restrained, and in so much pain.

If the collar had been on her, he’d have had a hard on.

Without it, he felt impotent.

No matter what he did, he was going to keep hurting her, and he just couldn’t be the source of her pain any longer.

He let go of his hold on her and picked up the bag. She fell to her knees.

He turned around and walked out. The sounds of her sobbing followed him for weeks.


For eight months, he’d been her world. He was her Daddy. He took care of her.

Who would take care of her now?

Two days later, she realized it was time to start taking care of herself.

She’d need to learn how, so she called an expert.

“Mom? I need you.”

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